


Lost In Paradise

by ImmortalMachines



Category: The Infernal Devices
Genre: AU, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-02
Updated: 2014-04-20
Packaged: 2018-01-14 07:37:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1258240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImmortalMachines/pseuds/ImmortalMachines
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Will/Jem AU)<br/>William Herondale is a stereotype. That's what his bandmates tell him. The classic rocker, the partier, the drug taker. He burns brightly, brighter than fire. And it's going to burn him out before he reaches twenty, unless his friends find a way to tame him.<br/>James Carstairs is dying. That's what the doctors tell him. He's had lung cancer for most of his life, and he'll be gone in a matter of months.<br/>What happens when Will is sent to the hospital, to volunteer? It's an action meant to clean up his act. But will the subsequent heartbreak leave him even more broken than before?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> \- May include drug taking, alcohol, mentions of violence/suicide/self harming. Could possibly include mentions of mental illness.
> 
> (This is my first time writing a fanfiction so please be kind. I'd love some constructive criticism etc!)

1

Will leaned on Magnus as the pair hotfooted it out of the club. He could already see the headlines.

**_Heartbreaker Will Herondale stumbles drunk after coming out as bi!_ **

**_The Infernal Devices' Will Herondale: drunk again!_ **

But in that moment, William Herondale could not care less about the papers. He didn't care about the publicity, or the scandal. Or the looks on the rest of the band's faces, when they saw the news. What he did care about was drinking away the disgusted look on the interviewer's face when he had said he was bisexual.

 

He'd only really had a couple of shots, before a man had tapped him on the shoulder, which had resulted in a fight, which Magnus had to pull him away from. He was lucky, apparently. Only a couple of bruises on his knuckles, and a cut on his cheek. Although he felt a little cheated; did Magnus really feel the need to save him? Will shrugged as the pair began the walk back to his London flat. He had a bottle or two of Jack Daniels sitting on the table, waiting for him, and something with a little more effect for him to shoot up on.

 

Nobody really knew about the heroin. Will kept it a closely guarded secret. Reporters had guessed, what with his wild partying, that Will would eventually turn to drugs. But they didn't know it would be so soon. Will was pretty sick of reporters, actually.

 

When William Herondale was sixteen, and just going through an emo phase, (one which stayed with him even now) he had met Magnus Bane. Magnus, a seventeen year old transfer student from America, or thereabouts, had introduced him to the music that ruled his life. Sex Pistols, the Rolling Stones, Pink Floyd... Will had lapped them up, like a life force. He learnt guitar, in order to be more like his idols. Magnus, recognising the younger boy's talent, had began singing with him. And then, calling in to see what all the noise was, they had met Gideon Lightwood, who became their drummer. He had a brother, Gabriel, who was happy to play bass for the group. Will, the youngest, had come up with the name: the Infernal Devices. He was pretty happy with it. One year later, the Infernal Devices were talent spotted by a major record label. Will was just seventeen when their first album was released. Immediate celebrities, and his partying just took off from there. Much to Magnus's disdain. The older boy had always felt the need to protect Will, as though Will was vulnerable and weak. It was not a trait that the dark haired boy was particularly fond of.

 

Reaching the apartment pulled Will out of his reverie. He reached for his key, but Magnus was there already with his own, dragging Will through the door, and out of the cold night. Light switches were pressed, and soon Magnus was tiptoeing around the flat, more comfortable here than in his own. God knows he spent enough time in it. The younger boy stumbled a little, flopping on the sofa, and blinking his vibrant blue eyes shut. Magnus knew that, tomorrow, no matter what he said, William Herondale would just go out again. And again. Will thought Magnus didn't know about the drugs, but Magnus was far more aware than he gave him credit for.

 

"It's got to stop, Will." Magnus whispered into the dark haired boy's ear, as he gently tucked a blanket around his friend's body.

"It will kill you in the end."

But he knew it was no use trying. Will was practically dead already.

 

***

 

In the morning, Will felt as though a dozen bricks had been dropped on his head, closely followed by a few thousand concrete slabs. He had nothing but a vague recollection of the events that had happened the night before, but he was crashed out on the sofa, which generally meant Magnus had dragged him home. The memory was hazy, but he didn't question it, instead crawling to get aspirin and water. The pounding in his head gradually decreased, until he barely noticed it anymore, although he couldn't stomach the idea of breakfast anymore.

 

The papers were sitting where they usually were, on his doorstep where the postman had left them. It was impossible, Will thought, to find a decent postman in London, but somehow he had managed it. Still, it left much to be desired. He felt a slight pang for his family's home, a sprawling, overgrown home in the Welsh countryside. The welsh lilt of his childhood never left his voice, but he wished it would. Perhaps then, he would forget about them all. About Ella and Cecily and the accident that had sent him away.

The headline was surprisingly predictable. Again. As was the article that sprang him out of his daydream (a constant habit - Gideon often said that Will was never on Earth.)

_**Heartbreaker Herondale parties again - fears grow for his safety** _

_**Will Herondale, guitarist in the Infernal Devices, known to be a heartbreaker, has become, some would say, a classic example of the modern rock star. Constant drinking, as well as rumoured drug taking, has overwhelmed the eighteen year old. Some sources have said they fear for his life, after he collapsed on stage last week, due to being allegedly drunk. Is the teenager out of control? Read on, to see what renowned psychiatrist Dr Michael Willoughby has to say about Herondale's mental condition...** _

 

Will groaned aloud. Stupid bloody reporters. Couldn't they see he was perfectly fine? They would just worry Gideon, Gabriel and Magnus until they put him in some place... He'd refuse, of course. Rehab again would be hell on earth. It never helped.

_It would if you let it._ Ella's voice spoke in his mind, still childish and still fourteen. She was frozen in time.

"Shut up!" Will pinched himself, to try and dispel Ella. "You're dead! Dead! "

_And who's fault is that?_

The hallucinations were side effects. That's what Will told himself. Nothing more.

 

Within about ten minutes of Will getting up, his phone was blipping with reminders. In twenty minutes (or half an hour - he was renowned for being late to these things) he was supposed to meet with the rest of the band to sort out what they were and weren't going to say in the interview, that would happen in an hour. A text from Gabriel told him to "Get your shit together and wear some nice clothes" which was pretty hypocritical coming from the leader of hobo chic. According to Will, anyway.

It took around ten minutes for Will to stumble around, cursing, and get together some clothes. A black Sex Pistols shirt, skinny jeans, and converse (his uniform, as far as Magnus was concerned) and did nothing to his unruly black curls. Dark circles ringed his normally vibrant blue eyes, but he couldn't really care less. Swaying slightly, he reached for his phone, just as it bleeped with a new text.

_**Magnus Sparkle Ass: Get your shit together, Herondale. I'm picking you up in five.** _

 

His eyes were drooping already, but he ignored them. Picking up his guitar, he strummed mindlessly picking out a few minor chords. Maybe he'd write a song about being drunk. To be honest, most of his songs were written under "The Influence." One day, maybe, he'd learn to be clean. Or maybe not.

_**Magnus Sparkle Ass: I'm outside your door, sleeping beauty. Get the fuck out!** _

Will rolled his eyes at the cat-eyed singer's impatience. Patience was not a trait that Magnus possessed.

_Although he must have the temperance of an angel to put up with you._

"Shut up!"

"Who are you talking to?" Magnus was leaning against the wall, next to the front door. As usual, he was dressed outlandishly, with his black hair spiked up, with streaks of blue glitter in it. His cat eyes were ringed with blue eyeliner, and he wore skinny jeans, and a blue leather jacket, with the sleeves pushed up, along with a rainbow top. Bracelets covered his arms. Will eyed the outfit with one eyebrow raised.

"I'm supposed to perform with you in that?"

Magnus looked miffed. "This is designer, sweetie. I got it from Gucci."

"That doesn't make it any less garish. "

"You have no sense of style, Mr Herondale. Now get your ass into my car or I swear to god-"

 

The car journey was a short one, thankfully. Soon enough, Will, Magnus and the rest of the band were sitting in a room, overlooking the city. Lights flickered on and off around them, but they were unperturbed. Gideon ran through the basic interview structure, before turning to Will.

"Will. We need to talk-"

"I'm fine!" The words came out louder than the dark haired boy had intended. Softening the tone of his voice a little, he continued. "I don't need any help. Or rehab."

"Not rehab..." Gideon sighed. "You need help, Will. I'm sorry. You need to learn to appreciate this more." He gestured to the room, the instruments, and the table. "This is an intervention."

"What?" Will shook his head wildly. "No! I'm fine! I told you!"

"You're not." Magnus' cat eyes were full of sadness. "You're in deep, Will. Let me help you."

"No!" Will's Welsh accent was clear in the words he yelled. "I'm fine! Please-"

Magnus reached out and squeezed Will's hand. "You're going to volunteer in a hospital, Will. You're going to visit the patients. Every day for the next month. While we're on hiatus. Please. This will help you."

 

Will had never known what it was like to be imprisoned. But now, he thought he had a pretty good approximation.


	2. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- May include drug taking, alcohol, mentions of violence/suicide/self harming. Could possibly include mentions of mental illness.
> 
> (Thank you to the person who commented! Sorry for the long wait!   
> Again, I'd appreciate any constructive criticism and I'd love to know what you thought!)

"You're assigned to James Carstairs."  
Will raised a dark eyebrow. "Mhm?"  
"James Carstairs." The nurse patiently repeated. Her hair was long, and brown, tied into a neat bun, and her grey eyes were big and sad. "In here, we assign certain people to patients. You've been assigned to Jem- I mean, James. He's a sweetie," she reassured Will, seeing the uncertainty in his eyes, "and he'll be glad of the company. He spend too much time alone, and he hasn't got much to waste. He's either in room 305 or in the music room-"  
"Thank you.." He sneaked a look at her name tag. "Theresa?"  
"Tessa. Please." She smiled a little. "The doctor is Jessie-" she flushed a little, "I mean, Dr Lovelace. You'll meet her soon enough."  
Will nodded, rolling his eyes in his head. The hospital was going to be so boring. He hoped James Carstairs was hot. Who knows what people got up to in hospitals these days?

Following the corridor Tessa had gestured toward, Will began to hear music. Not just any music. It was sweet, and pure, played on a violin, he thought. It was so sad he wanted to cry, but so pure he felt he needed to carry on. Perhaps there was an iPod doc nearby. Maybe James enjoyed classical music. He hoped not. James sounded like an awful bore already.  
The music was coming from the room marked "Music Room." Will didn't bother knocking; just opening the door and walking in.

Inside, a boy was playing a violin. That was the music Will had heard. The boy was slender, almost to the point of skinny, and pale, with silver-blond hair and long lashed eyes, which were closed as he played. His features were distinctly asian, Will noticed, and the fingers gripping the bow of the violin were small, and thin. He was beautiful. Not many boys were, but this strange, pale Asian boy playing music on the violin was beautiful.  
"Tessa?"  
Will started. The voice was soft, quiet almost, and held a note of affection that almost made Will jealous, with a slight accent. Chinese?  
"No-"  
The boy put down his instrument and turned around. His eyes were as silvery as his hair, Will noticed.  
"Are you Will?" His mouth went up at a corner slightly, as he said it. Will thought it was adorable.  
"Yes- I'm Will. Herondale." Cursing his lack of speech.  
"I'm James." His mouth went up slightly, again. "But call me Jem. Everyone does."  
"It isn't much of an honour if everyone does it." Will retorted.  
"True." Jem shrugged. "But perhaps it isn't meant to be an honour."  
"Honours are not given freely enough."  
"If they were, wouldn't you have won an oscar by now?"  
Will was thrown slightly. "What about you? Oscar or a Grammy by now?"  
"I would never." Jem smiled bitterly. "There's no glory in being sick. Or dying sick, for that matter."  
"You're sick?" Will regretted it as soon as it came out. Of course Jem was sick. He was in hospital.  
"Lung cancer. Terminal." He said it as though he was used to it, almost unconsciously.  
"I'm-"  
"Don't be sorry." Jem's silvery eyes blazed with a fire Will would not have expected to come from this gentle boy. "Don't ever be sorry. It's not your fault, or anyone's fault. You're a guitarist. Do you mean to tell me you're sorry you left school at sixteen so never got the chance to cure cancer?"  
Will shrugged. "You never know. Although I was pretty crap at it."  
"Really?" Again, the mouth quirk. "I find that hard to believe."  
"You find me hard to believe?"  
"No, I find you hard to understand. And it's even harder when you lie."  
Will widened his eyes. "I don't lie."  
"Yes you do. What instruments do you play?"  
"Guitar." Automatically.  
"Nothing else?"  
"No."  
"Lie. You play piano. It's your first and better instrument."  
Will raised an eyebrow. "And how would you guess that?"  
"Your hands." Jem smiled sweetly. "They're a pianist's hands. Long and slender." He looked at his own, small hands. "Play something?"  
"And why would I do that?"  
"Because I want you to?"

Will sighed, and walked over to the other side of the small room, where there was a grand piano. "What do you want me to play?"  
"Anything."  
Will gently placed his fingers onto the keys. He hadn't played for so long, yet they remembered instantly. Jem's silvery eyes were captivated as Will finished.  
"That's nice."  
"It's a lullaby."  
"I can tell."  
Jem picked up his violin again, and gently played, the music paralleling Will's own. "We should go."  
"We?"  
"You're supposed to be assigned to me. That means we. And we should go."  
"Why?"  
Jem's silver eyes were sad. "Because I have treatment. And I want someone to hold my hand."  
He held out a small hand. Will took it, his own so much bigger, and helped Jem up. The other boy was slightly smaller than he was, as well as so thin that, in other circumstances, one might have considered him anorexic.  
"You're tiny." He didn't mean for the words to slip out.  
"I know."

They walked to room 305 in peaceful silence, Will holding Jem's hand the whole way. 

***

Jem whimpered as the needle went into his painfully skinny arm.  
"Jem!" The doctor was extraordinarily beautiful, Will noted, but also extraordinarily mean. Her hair was curly, and fair, falling down her shoulders and to her waist. Her complexion was perfect and her figure a perfect hourglass. In fact, everything about her was perfect. Apart from her personality .  
"Sorry, Jess." Jem shrugged. "It hurt."  
"Needles hurt!" Dr Lovelace, Jessamine, almost yelled in exasperation. "You need to get a grip."  
Will almost wanted to punch her. Jem was so fragile and she was sticking needles in him... It was like kicking a puppy.  
Jem coughed weakly.  
"Let's try again." Jessamine rolled her eyes. "Three, two, one..."  
Jem shut his eyes, tight, and squeezed Will's hand, tight. Will felt slightly uncomfortable; he'd only just met Jem and already they were holding hands? It wasn't Will's style. But he wouldn't deny: Jem's hand fitted perfectly in his own.

"Is it over yet?" The slight accent on Jem's voice only served to make it sweeter.  
"Yes." Jessamine snapped. "Baby."  
Will really wanted to punch her. Luckily, for Dr Lovelace's sake, she left the room, leaving Jem rubbing his arm. 

"Is she gone?"  
Will looked over, and saw that Jem still had his eyes shut.  
"Yes. She's gone."  
"I don't mind Jessie." Jem shrugged. "But she doesn't like anyone. She was fine before Nate Grey broke her heart-"  
Will felt out of place, and shuffled a little.  
"Sit by me?" Jem's voice cracked slightly.  
"I'm not leaving."  
"Don't ever." The smaller boy looked tired.  
"Never." 

Will had not really thought of Jem's lifespan until then. But, looking at this fragile boy, he realised. Jem Carstairs was dying, and he was dying fast.


	3. Note

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Authors note.

Hi, guys. 

I'm so so sorry. I have to start with that, I'm extremely sorry. I had written five more chapters of LiP and I planned to upload them today, but technology has failed me.  
For some reason, every single story I had on Pages has been deleted. It won't let me access iCloud and it's saying there are no documents. I may-or-may-not be able to get to the stories,but it's going to take a while. 

I can't really say anything to make this better. I really wanted to give you the new chapters and I'm so sorry that technology has failed me. That's all I can say, really. Hopefully I either get them back, or, more likely, I will try and rewrite the chapters. 

Sorry again, and I'm sorry you have to wait  
~ImmortalMachines (aka Fearne)


End file.
